His fingers were in her hair, his hand on hers, yet her body throbbed as though he touched everywhere. She would have welcomed that. The mouth didn’t seem to be enough to give, to take, to demand. Whole worlds opened up and spun at the touch of mouth to mouth. She could taste what he offered—passion, wild, ripe, free. Fulfillment was there, churning within her if she chose to let go.

She came alive when he held her. Reeve hadn’t known a woman could be so electric while remaining so soft. He could feel pulse beats, tempting him to touch them, one by one. He started with her throat, just a skim of a fingertip. Her moan rippled into his mouth. The inside of her elbow—the blood pounded there. At her wrist it jumped frantically.

He drew her bottom lip into his mouth to suck, to nibble. Her body trembled, arousing him beyond belief as he took his hand slowly up from her waist to find her breast. The thin robe she wore could have been pulled away with one hand, leaving her naked, but Reeve kept the barrier knowing his sanity would be pulled away with it.

When he made love with her, fully, completely, there wouldn’t be servants or staff or family. When he made love with her the first time, there’d be nothing, no one but the two of them. She’d never forget it. Or him.

He ran his hand down her once, one long, firm stroke. Possession, threat, promise. Neither of them could be sure which. When he let her go, neither of them was steady.

Brie saw something in his eyes that had her skin heating. Desire, but more. Knowledge. His eyes were blue, dark, not quite calm. In them she saw the knowledge that she wouldn’t walk away from him easily. Not today. Not tomorrow.

She drew back against the window seat, as far away from him as she could. “You have no right.”

He looked at her until she had to hold back the tremble. “I don’t need any.” When he reached up to cup her face she went still. It was a habit of his she hadn’t quite fathomed. It might be gentleness; it might be arrogance. “I don’t want any.”

Her strength was nothing to be underestimated. She was still, yes, but she wasn’t weak. “I’ll tell you when I want to be touched, Reeve.”

He didn’t remove his hand. “So you have.”

Try a different tactic, she decided. Something had to work. “I think you’re taking this charade too seriously. You overstep yourself.”

“If you want bows and protocol, you’ll have to look elsewhere. Remember, you told me not to be kind.”

“A request that isn’t difficult for you.”

“Not at all.” He smiled, then lifted her hand where the diamond flashed. “You and I know this is no more than a pretty rock, Brie. Another trapping.” On impulse, he turned her hand over, held it, then pressed his lips to her palm. “No one else will.”